LIFE:
by TheBird.and.TheBee
Summary: The vast and endless plane spread out before me. The sun had not yet arisen from its sleep and its children scattered the heavens. A vampire hunter D fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey kids, c'est moi.**

**This is a story I had to write for me creative writing class in high school. Bleh. It was going to be a one shot, but if you would like more, feel free to ask.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own vampire hunter D. sob. I wish I did though…….**

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.:LIFE:.

I leaned down into the horse's waving mane as the raven strands whipped against my face. The vast and endless plane spread out before me. The sun had not yet arisen from its sleep and its children scattered the heavens. My horse breathed frantically as we raced across the moony sands. Hooves thundering soundlessly, we headed on.

The only way to get across the desert was at night. It was both cooler and easier. But it was anything but safe.

The people out here are strong.

Their faces and backs bronzed and beaten by their harsh, eternal friend. Where a single drop of water is life. I have seen the crazed look in a man's eyes as they fight their mother, brother or son for what ever is left, be it a gallon or a trickle of water.

And I feel their thirst.

As it crackles through their veins, burning their eyes. When it keeps them from swallowing and robs them of speech as they grasp towards the cloudless, relentless skies for dear sweet mercy. "Please let a drop fall to quench my thirst so at least I can cry tears of gratitude" their wordless parched lips mouth before all is lost and they fall back on the embracing timeless sands.

Their thirst burns in me every day, every hour, every second, and it has for every moment in my life.

For I am dhampir.

A dhampir has to keep running. No matter where, no matter how far. Everywhere we rest our dusty tired feet we are hunted relentlessly. Sometimes, though rarely, by our own kind.

In one world, we are weak, inferior, casualties of circumstance. The careless result of a single night. A tumble in bed with a mortal woman is nothing to them, with their looks and allure. Killing the offspring wouldn't be much problem with their strength and lack of conscience.

In the other world we are hideous monsters, the deformed bastard child of what never should have been.

I don't have any lovers.

I don't have any friends.

It is a reckless wish for company and acceptance that keeps me alive. I am on a constant mission for purpose and place.

It is almost morning now. The sands will be tinged with pink for a while before the blazing sun peaks over the horizon to start a new day. Bleaching the bones of carrion and whatever has succumbed to its caressing rays.

I have seen this spectacle for many days now. I can't remember the last time I saw a town. Maybe I am taking this horse in circles with me so we can create more sand with the dust of our bones. With finality and its tender embrace.

As light begins to cloud my vision, I tilt my hat down to cover my sensitive eyes. The murky outline of a few buildings speeds up my heart. I slowed my horse down with a few tender words, stroking her midnight flanks as she gradually obeyed. The horse trudged towards the town.

A sinking feeling echoed in the depths of my heart as it became apparent that the village was near empty.

A few ragged tents flapped in the wind as the dust swirled around in the streets.

The buildings were suffering, as most do in the desert. Their barren windows like sad eyes peering down on us.

Only a few tired peasants littered the streets. An old man wandered past me, staring up into my face. His back, bent under the weight of time, temporarily straightened, as he understood what he was in the presence of. As his eyes met mine, there was an understanding.

Though his skin was wrinkled, sandblasted and brown, while mine was the milky, smooth translucence of one who hardly ages at all. It is we, the old ones alone, who understand the tests and repetitions of time. He gave me a solemn and respectful bow then continued his slow, weary way.

I rode down the middle of the town aimlessly as my horse looked for a fountain. The sound of children playing perked my pointed ears as I hopped silently to the ground.

As she bent her head down to drink, I stood sweltering next to her. I wished I could tear the sun's net of heat off my shoulders.

I removed my hat from my head and bent almost prayerfully to the water, scooping it up in my long fingers to trickle on my face. As I washed the dust from my features, I caught sight of two small brown feet next to me.

I looked into a pair of big black eyes holding a white cloth for me to dry my face. I took the rag and wiped the water out of my eyes then returned it to the new comer.

She looked up at me curiously. Her close cropped inky hair curled about her round face delightfully. And her eyes framed by heavy lashes, were paired with a button nose and a perfectly shaped mouth. Someone had dressed her in a boy's deljba, a cotton robe worn by many in this region, and had placed a small gold band around her neck. An odd androgynous figure that couldn't be more than eight years old.

She held up a small piece of fruit, staring at me expectantly until I took it from her small eager hands.

" Thank you." I murmured, unsure of which tongue she spoke

Suddenly a woman scooped the child up in her arms. She was beginning to apologize for the girl bothering me when she caught sight of my face, full and up closer to hers than one of my kind should be.

She screamed and clutched the child to her running down the street shrieking what translates the same in every language in these parts.

Instantly the whole town was roused. Men and women poured out of buildings that I had thought were empty, armed with what ever they could find. Their angry faces, showing the same pain I have seen in every town where there has been an old one.

Vampires do not leave scars that heal. They leave angry sweltering wounds that never close. I glanced at my horse to see if we could make a run from the town and still be able to travel afterwards.

She was aging, tired and dusty. After many years of carrying me through forests and deserts she deserved a rest. My horse looked at me reproachfully as she continued drinking.

The mob came to rest about ten feet away from me. A large burly man pushed his way through the crowd to stand in front.

" We don't allow your kind in our village. Either your leave now or we chase you out." He said, his voice thickened by his accent and his rage.

" My horse needs to rest. I don't mean to stay here long." I said quietly.

The man stamped his dusty boot into the ground and repeated his demands. The crowd behind him was getting restless.

" Please. I will only be a couple of hours. I have been traveling for days…"

Someone threw a rock with impressive force and it struck me in the face. I grasped at the wound as I urged my horse to remove its mouth from the fountain. The sight of the darkened blood seeping between my fingers rose shouts from the crowd.

I hadn't mounted yet when they threw another rock, which spooked my horse. She began to run in fear and I chased after her. My fingers grasped at the side of her saddle as the mob followed, brandishing weapons and jeering.

Finally I caught the weathered leather and hoisted myself onto her.

We ran.

I picked out a small voice from the mob and turned around. The desert child was running after me, my floppy large hat grasped in her little hand.

She waved it frantically, trying to catch up with my horse to return it to me, but the masses soon overtook her and she was lost in the fray.

We galloped to the outskirts of the village. There were small patches of grass coming up through the dust, signifying the end of the desert area. My horse slowed and I allowed her, knowing how tired she was. Surely, I deserved it, but she had no part in my sin.

The crowd eventually dispersed and went back towards their town leaving a litter of rocks and debris in their wake. As the dust settled and the sun beat down on my bare head, I saw something laying in the distance. I got down from my horse and walked towards it, speeding up my pace as I realized what it was.

The desert child lay trampled in the dust. Her beauty marred by the violence of a moment. I turned her small fragile body over, then listened to her chest for signs of life.

Her motionless eyes stared through me, a lingering tear hanging on to her sandy eyelashes as she grasped on to my hat even in death. Her little mission giving her such purpose.

A sudden sorrow welled up inside me so swift and magnificent that I couldn't silence the shriek of pain and remorse that escaped from my lips. Then I buried my face in my hands so she wouldn't see the stark expression of guilt and rage in my eyes.

Turning away, I closed both her eyes and prayed over her body.

Then I pried my hat from her hand, placed it on my head, and mounted my horse.

We walked slowly away from the torn remains of those who attempt to befriend the dhampir.

Those deaths I remember and keep as a way to remind myself not to get too close, this is not a problem.

But I must find a way to quench my thirst.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all,**

**I am just transitioning from a test school story to an actual fan fiction because I got some nice feedback. I'm a bit busy now, but I should be able to keep up regularly, just another tid-bit to keep you on your toes and so you know where this is going.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own vampire hunter D. sob. I wish I did though…….**

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LIFE

I have been riding for days now. The expanse around me has not been much to admire, but I know where I'm going.

I can smell the ocean from here.

Its scent is strongest at night, a salty timeless tang that quickens my skin and opens my pores. She pulls me like an irresistible force, over the dunes to her waters, garnished lavishly with hot blooded young men, swarthy sailors.

Their shouts, boisterous, and their manner coarse, but each knows and needs his mistress. Would leave wives, lovers and children to heed her beck and call.

I am dhampir, but I am no different.

Sailors are an interesting kind. More superstitious than most, but some how less wary of the things on land that most fear; and more attuned to the Spirit of the World. I am not sure which carries more weight, but I do know that my body craves the rock and swing of an old boat, the stories of a weathered man, and the salty body of a sailor's wench.

It is close.

We galloped over the sand with renewed fervor as I dug my heels into the horse's side. She could smell it too, her eyes unleaded from lack of rest, burned such that I no longer had to steer her.

Regardless of our urgency, she had been running for hours, and it would not do for her to lie down and die before we reached the docks. I would have nothing to trade to the sailors for assurance of my safe passage across the ocean. Or theirs.

Scanning the horizon, I spotted a dim stain about a hundred yards away, which approaching it, turned out to be a small cluster of trees and a patch of clay dirt. My horse shied away from the refuge, snorting with fear as I urged her forward. She could smell death.

I hopped down from her back, sighing with discontent and approached the spot behind a few trees where the body lay.

It is curious what the desert will do to the body of a man.

His face was withered and brown, but he could have been as light as I. His features were clearly formed and his hair shined as the light night wind ruffled it gently, like a lover's caress. Dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, the man was clearly not a traveler. A scholar maybe, a fugitive probably.

I took of my hat and held it to my chest in respect, before, dragging the man off of the clay dirt and further out into the desert. The horse pawed the ground with her hooves as if trying to decide if the danger had passed. She clomped over toward the trees as I buried myself in the ground.

"Finally." My symbiant complained "riding all day like that, who do you think you are, Rambo?"

I wanted to retaliate, but I couldn't find the energy to even sigh. Every time I closed my eyes, the girl looked back at me. I want her more than I have wanted anything in a long time. She was so succulent, filled with foreign principles and candid hospitality. I could raise her and she could travel with me.

It was a ridiculous notion, but it brought me comfort and it helped my thoughts steer away from her rag-tag form, smudged into the ground like an oversight.


	3. Chapter 3

**:D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own vampire hunter D. sob. I wish I did though…….**

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" lift the crate with a gentle hand, mayte. If the cargo drops on ye, its your heid no mine."

"tcha! stuff it Mackenzie, its heavier on this side."

I smiled quietly.

Leading my horse around the barrage of noisy brawling, shouting and wagering towards the docks. I had slept longer than I wanted to, my body subconsciously preparing for the journey. The sun was already high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the large boat docks.

This was a place of many foreigners.

There were finely clad aristocrats from many worlds over. Dressed in silks and wools and fine glittering things, their noses held high in the air. As if they were trying to escape the stench of fish, rot, spices, and ripe bodies. Bawdy drunken women chased by the lecherous sailors, scurried rambunctiously across the street into a tavern, their laughter and screams piercing the air.

The desert men stood silently by their camels peering down at the rest with obvious disdain.

It was easy to slip by unnoticed by most.

The ship nearest to me with a wide large thing, outfitted with great banners and spangles. The sailors on it were packing it with giant crates and cages with animals in them. The captain, a large and decorated man strode purposefully in front of it. Every so often he would rear up his bearded face and shout something to his seamen about being careful with the cargo. He seemed like he wanted to get going quickly, so I took my chances and approached him.

" good morning sir." I said, my eyes lowered.

" ah! A good morning to you then sir, and a fine one it is indeed." He said laughing heartily, removing the wooden pipe from between his whiskered lips to fix me with a steely gaze. " is there anything I could be helping you with, then?"

" I was wondering if your ship carried passengers."

He thought for a moment then shook his head. "No not at the time, lad. What, have you a need to get somewhere close by?"

" I need to get out of the desert." I cleared my throat. " I have a horse to barter with if…"

The man snorted in interruption. "Everyone in the world's got a horse, they aren't hard to find. Give me something worthwhile, and I might let you tag along with the rest of the crew."

Knotting my eyebrows in desperation I rummaged around on my person, producing a small golden trinket I had picked up earlier that week. Before I could hand it to the captain, he reached out a meaty hand and snatched the amulet off my neck.

" aye, that'll do." He murmured looking at it, before turning around to the ship and climbing up the ladder.

I gritted my teeth, a small snarl of discontent escaping my throat before following the man.

The ship was a good deal less appealing on the inside than it was on the outside. Rotted boards lined the deck, bending in places. There were probably about 40 men on board. All of them looking worse for wear. More like pirates than sailors, if I knew any better. I looked them up an down but the sailors didn't pay me much mind as I followed the captain to the guest's quarters.

We wandered down to the second level in the boat, the store hold. As soon as we stepped off the last stair and opened the door, every beast in the room began making as much noise as possible. All the birds unanimously squawking and flapping their wings in a wild frenzy, as the goats and sheep added to the clamor by stomping their feet and braying loudly. I winced in pain as the sound attacked my sensitive ears, but my discomfort only seemed to add to their fervor.

" aw shut up, ye mangy beasts." The captain shouted, kicking one of the crates with much energy and gusto. "They get like that because they think their bound to be fed." He shouted to me over the racket. I responded by scowling at the animals menacingly. I wanted nothing more but to take off my hat, but that would have to wait until later.

He pushed open a door and led me down a few more stairs to another room. It, being obviously the conclusion of our journey, must be the guest room. I looked around.

It was rather small. The only light coming through was from a small round window, half immersed in water. There was a long bed with a few dirty looking sheets strewn across it.

Aside from it reeking badly of wood-rot, it was a fairly satisfying place to stay for the next few weeks.

" ah weel. This is it. If you'll be needing anything I'll send someone to take care of it for you."

"Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow at me and sighed. "As you wish." He clomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him with such and air of finality, I wondered if he ever wanted me to come up again.

I needed to stretch. Removing my body armor proved to be a slight lengthier that I had remembered. I pulled off my breast plate and shoulder armor and stashed it under the bed. Pulling off my shoes, I rolled my pant legs up frowning slightly at my huge clumsy looking feet and slim calves.

I wrenched the hat off of my head and combed my hair rakishly with my fingers. I must find something to tie it up with or it will drive me mad.

It felt so good though, to not wear it. I sighed and stretched my body out fully on the bed and closed my eyes.

It felt so very good. Everything feels good when I'm on a boat. If I could, I would be a sailor forever.

I must have drifted asleep because when I woke it was pitch black in my room. I turned over on my side and rummaged around for a lamp, finding none, I sat up. Something wasn't right. The room smelled slightly different. And there was noise.

I sniffed delicately and sat up.

There was something in this room and it was human.

I could hear its heart beating. Fluttering like a bird. It smelled delectable; with the sharp tang of old fear lingering on its salty skin. I could almost feel it breathing. I nearly moaned. Every atom of my being was focused on this being, as if the darkness had heightened my senses.

I needed to see. Now.

I scrambled under the bed in my things, drew out a match and stroke it against the bed frame. I held it up until it found the glint of a lamp.

The room burst into view.

And it was empty.

But I could still smell him. I fumbled around following the smell until I found a small door. Trying with all my might not to bite my tongue in abject lust, I wrenched it open.

The lantern light fell on dark hair and brown skin. I glared into the darkness. It was a small cupboard of sorts with a person sleeping in it.

Judging from her clothing, and yes I had discerned it was female, it was possibly a servant of some sort.

I stared at her sleeping face for a few moments longer before closing the cupboard.

That was too close.

I was wide awake by now and quite ashamed of myself, which my symbiant was inclined to point out by babbling on about how I should have just taken her and all sorts of other despicable nonsense.

Meanwhile, I spent some time, converting my scarf into an ear hiding device. I wanted to wander the ship and I didn't want any trouble while I was doing so. It had been a while since I was that close to a human, and I must admit, I am weaker now not being on land. I feel as though some kind of arrangement must be made concerning the servant in my sleeping quarters.

I would not like it if I were her if I awoke in a room with something like me.

Perhaps if I found somewhere more suitable for either of us to sleep, I could go over it with the captain, possibly relinquish one of my belongings for my audacity and the safety of the nameless human.

" or you could just murder the captain and take hold of his ship to do with whatever you like." My symbiant murmured lazily. " you really have no imagination for these things do you?"

" quiet. You know nothing of these matters." I muttered angrily

" psh, yeah sure, just because I don't have my own body you think I don't know anything about the world. Tch. young people these days."

" if you value the body you inhibit now, you keep quiet like I asked."

I stalked up the stairs and into the room with animals.


	4. Chapter 4

**I think its time he had a friend. You know, normally I despise AU characters and the whole ordeal of AU, but I want him to have someone to talk to on the boat, so whatever. Feel free to let me know early if you don't want it, or if it bothers you because I could kill her off or something.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not cool enough to have created this.**

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It was quiet in the store hold, apparently all its animal occupants sound asleep. It was imperative to make it out of here without awaking any of them because if the ruckus began again, it was unlikely to cease anytime soon. I slid silently across the floor to the other side of the storeroom.

Normally I like animals, they are fair creatures, and running on instinct makes you innocent you know. However, these animals, I was beginning to develop an aversion to.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I climbed up onto the deck.

The salty sea air hit me like a blast and I shivered with delight. There weren't many people on deck, juts a few men near the mast with a couple of lamps. Their orangey glow was compelling, but not nearly as much as the endless indigo horizon the spread out before me.

The reason I prefer the sea life, even though it ravages my body, is it is one in four chances for me to feel small. There is nothing more humbling than seeing the world from a god's perspective.

In which you are only an infinitesimal particle of the general meaning of the world.

The first is the plain lands. Where you could shout as loud as your body will allow, and your voice is swallowed by the wind and the earth. As if you don't subsist because it eats your existence

The desert is another. Being a sea before it was infinite dryness, it is informally, a place of surrender. The desert is for quietness and solemn reverence. It is a place of death, and therefore deserves respect.

The Poles are a kind of desert, similar in their quest for death, but more menacing. A barren wasteland, that I have only had the pleasure of visiting once, each.

Such an aura of hopelessness and survival it is cutting to the deepest part. I would never go back, even for the world.

And the ocean.

The ocean is life just as much as the desert is death.

I can hear it even now.

I crossed the deck and leaned over the very edge, heightening my senses until I could clearly perceive. There were whales beneath us. They were singing.

I immersed my self deeper. A school of fish fluttered across my consciousness like a flock of butterflies. I shivered and breathed in their scent. I could perceive the anemone waving their tentacles up at me, I sent a jolt of life energy to them and they wiggled in delight.

I smiled. Quietly.

I could only perceive about 50 yards down, but it was enough. The whales were migrating. I think they may have been there for about a week since it seemed the other life down there was well adjusted to their presence.

My ears picked up another sound, snapping my out of my abstraction. The sailors were laughing loudly behind me, so I turned to meet their eyes.

A young man with a rough pointy orange beard and lips like a cherub's bow nodded at me, winking. The laughter ensued once again, as I balked, wondering what to do. He looked up at me again, over his mug of ale, and then raised his mug to beckon me over.

I meandered cautiously in their direction and sat on an over turned barrel, looking around the circle. Aside from the obvious head of the group, there were at least 12 other pairs of eyes staring back into mine. I nodded at each person in greeting and they returned the gesture.

" ach! look at im, he's bonny as a lass. A face like an angel, and a scowl like the devil am I right mates?" the red headed seaman remarked, as the other men chuckled good naturedly.

I did not find this humorous.

" where do ye hail from and where are ye goin?" a dark haired man asked, raising a slim eyebrow at me " it's a rare thing for us to have a passenger aboard the ship."

" I hail from Romania though I haven't been there for a long while. I have been traveling the desert for weeks and I needed to get out. I am going where ever you are going." I said tersely.

A blonde older man with a rich and luxurious beard smirked in my general direction "Romania, you say? I had a tumble with a Romanian girl once. Fine women you have there in your country, had an ass like a nectarine. Would have stayed there with her if i… "

The red headed man snorted, interrupting. "ye wouldna stayed with the lass if she were offering you a thousand rubies." He turned to me " pay no attention to that one. He could tell you stories of all the lasses he's tumbled until ye were both outta breath. 'im from talking and you from telling 'im to shut up."

All the men burst in to loud raucous laughter, and even I had to crack a smile.

" its all fine and good though." The dark haired man said once it had quieted down. " you sail often?"

" no. I would like to though. Every time I have gone it was a good experience." I replied, avoiding the man's eyes, which were boring a little too deep into mine for comfort.

" so is this trip an exception?" an old sailor replied

I decided to cut to the chase.

" there is a girl in my room."

"so why ye complainin'?" the red headed man said, slapping his knee and once more bursting into laughter.

I sat silently though it until it was over.

The older sailor next to me murmured to me under his breath. " she's just a servant girl pay her no mind."

I turned to observe him. His hair was almost white and I could smell the sickness that comes with age, radiating from his bones. He was heavily tattooed, the ink bleeding and stretching with his weathered skin.

"We picked her up on a trip to the Indies. The captain needed a girl on board and she seemed willing and able. She's a silent thing, stay out of her way and she'll stay out of yours." He said, turning to look at me with rheumy eyes.

"I can't have anyone in my room with me." I said quietly to him.

He scoffed deep in his throat and stretched his arms high over his head, wearily.

"Like I said. You stay out of her way, she stays out of yours. There shouldn't be a problem."

Deciding that arguing was futile, I sat back, resting my head against the boat side. Through the haze of my eyelashes, I noticed the red haired man had produces a mandolin from somewhere behind him and was tuning it. The sharp twanging sound swiftly cut though the night air. He cleared his throat and the small side conversations people were having quieted gradually down.

He leered at everyone before strumming the mandolin. His voice was a smooth, sweet, woodsy sound that warmed us just as easily as the brandy everyone seemed to be swigging. However, the lyrics were not nearly as sweet or woodsy.

**I was born of Irish parents one day when I was young**

**That's how the Gaelic dialect became my native tongue**

**That I was a pretty baby, my mother she would vow**

**The girls all ran to kiss me then, I wish they'd do it now**

Suddenly and alarmingly the whole group of men broke in with a mighty roar to sing the chorus.

**Oh, I wish they'd do it now, oh, I wish they'd do it now**

**I've got itches in me britches and I wish they'd do it now!**

I am not easy to startle, but I assure anyone who is willing to listen, that that startled the living daylights out of me. But it wasn't over yet.

**Well when I was only six months old, the girls would handle me**

**They'd clutch me to their bosoms and they'd bounce me on their knees**

**They'd rock me in the cradle and if I make a row**

**They'd tickle me, they'd cuddle me, I wish they'd do it now**

The old man near me elbowed me viciously in the ribs, cajoling me to sing. Which I didn't.

**Oh, I wish they'd do it now, oh, I wish they'd do it now**

**I've got itches in me britches and I wish they'd do it now**

**At sixteen months as fine a lad as ever could be seen**

**The girls all loved to follow me right down to the green**

**They'd make a chain of buttercups and drop it on me brow**

**Then they'd roll me in the clover, well I wish they'd do it now…**

I believe this visit is over.

I stood, nodding at the men in good bye and began my descent into the store hold.

I wrenched open the heavy wood door, letting it slam hard behind me, forgetting about the animals. Which, of course, all woke up and continued in their abrasive manner, as valiantly and loudly as before.

My symbiant chose this time to scold me about being anti social.

"…and I thought you liked sailors." It grumbled " …cant even sit down over a couple glasses of brandy. I haven't heard a good bawdy story in a while and you go and ruin it."

I walked as quickly through the braying, squawking, peeping, crowing disaster and into my room, closing the door swiftly behind me.

A small gasp made me whip around. A clang thundered through the silence as my shoulder armor fell to the ground.

Her eyes were wild with fear as they locked with mine. I could hear the harshness of her breath from across the room.

Neither of us spoke.

Her heart beat wildly. Wetly.

"Who are you?"

She shook her head, her eyes not once leaving me as she pressed herself up against the wall in effort to put distance between us. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Her brown shoulders high with tension.

"Why are you going through my things?"

She shook her head again.

I wondered if she had taken anything. I took one step in her general direction and she winced putting her thin arms up to shield herself.

" I wont hurt you." I assured her as I knelt down to my belongings to check to see if everything was sound. She hadn't taken anything as far as I could see. She had lowered her arms, but still edged against the wall, remaining a steady distance away.

I watched her as eagerly as she watched me.

She was clothed in a small shift, tied at the waist. It was worn, but clean and a bit too large for her. Her hair was wild and dark cluttered with wooden beads and white albatross feathers, it nicely contrasted with her full mouth and slanted eyes which were roving over me frantically.

"What is your name?"

Still no response.

I moved closer to her, and she put her arms up, wincing with each step I took until she slid to the floor, trapped against the wall.

I knelt down beside her and took her face in my hands. Tenderly, I slipped my thumb across her lips gesturing for her to open her mouth.

Damn.

Someone had sliced the tongue out of this tiny creature's mouth and seared off the wound, an act so barbaric to do to someone who has already relished in the beauty of speech.

She was still shaking, so I placed my hand on hers.

"I am sorry for your loss."

She stared at me for a moment, then boldly reached up and put her other hand on the side of my face. I flinched and pulled her hot fingers off my skin.

" what is your name? Do you have a name?" I asked

Of course I received nothing in response, so I sighed and rummaged in the corner producing a bit of wax.

"Do you write?"

She shook her head but took the wax anyway. She pressed it to the floor and drew a circle. She pointed at the circle and then she pointed at me, then she pointed to herself.

I was in no mood for guessing games, but I decided to humor her, just this once.

" what are you trying to tell me?"

She sighed, and put her hands up next to her ears and put her fingers up near them in a pretty good imitation of the pointy ness of my own. Without thinking, my hands rose to my ears and clasped them self consciously. She smiled and nodded.

Then, spotting a small rusted cooking knife nearby, she grabbed it, and before I could stop her, slashed it against her hand. The wound knitted itself together before my eyes.

She stared intently into my eyes as she waited for the connection to be made.

This was beginning to irk me.

She scowled, looking as irritated as I felt.

With strong strokes, she drew another three circles. Two of the circles were half filled, the third was empty and the last was completely colored in. She pointed to the whole circle and the empty circle and placed her hands together. Her fingers, I noted were very long and slim despite her hand's size.

She clapped sharply to get my attention, and then repeated the gesture. She pointed to the half filled circle. And she pointed to me. Then she pointed to the other half filled circle and pointed to herself.

She was a half breed. I finally understood.

" oh." I said " you are only half human. I am as well."

She blew out her cheeks and shrugged as if to say " yeah. I know."

Then without warning, she got up and went to her closet. Closing the door behind her.

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'Itches in Me Britches' song if you guys are interested in hearing it. there is a square in the corner, press play:

/music/Rogues+and+Wenches/_/Itches+In+Me+Britches?autostart

The lyrics are a bit dodgy since it IS a drinking song. :] enjoy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for so little after so long. I just wanted to send this in. I've been doing college applications and its eating up my free time. :[**

**Disclaimer: I'm not cool enough to have created this.**

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I stretched my arms above my head, then sighed, scratching at my hair. It was morning and the room was cast with a dim creamy glow. A bit of sunlight came through the peep hole, illuminating the floor with the odd shimmers of sun through water.

It was pleasing.

The door swung open and the servant girl I had encountered yesterday, bumbled into the room, almost dropping the large tray she held in her thin arms. She looked up at me, smiling quickly, then she placed the tray on the bed.

It held a plate of what appeared to be roasted fish and gull's eggs with some sort of vegetable. She gestured at me to begin eating, then started to leave the room.

"Wait!"

She stopped and turned, rising an eyebrow at me in uncertainty.

" I'm… not hungry. You can eat it if you would like."

She thought for a moment biting her lip. Then, deciding that it was worth whatever risk it posed, came to sit on the bed and began to ravenously devour what was on the plate.

I watched her.

I'm unsure of what kind of demon or creature she is half of, but I'm sure that her power of regeneration would probably affect the way her skin reacted to aging. She could be as young as she looked or she could be nearly as old as I.

This would also mean that the person who had cut off her tongue had to sear it so it wouldn't grow back. Perhaps if she cut off the burned part, it would regenerate again and she would regain her voice.

She became aware of my scrutiny, looking at me out of the corner of her eye as if to say. 'what are you looking at' in an annoyed manner. She made a noise of discontent in her throat, then shoved a huge hunk of fish into her mouth.

" I have nothing to call you." I said simply.

She shrugged, cutting a piece of egg with the side of her fork.

She didn't seem all that interested in me or anything that had to do with me, but it bothered me that I didn't have anything to call her. Even if she didn't have a name, she couldn't tell it to me. I decided I would think up some names and she would get to choose one. I didn't feel exactly comfortable with calling her "Girl" or "Hey" when ever I needed her, because for all intensive purposes, she was mine.

I wandered out into the store hold, wincing slightly as the anticipated racket began. I have never encountered animals with such a concentrated group mentality. Certainly there should be some occasion during this trip in which I would walk into the store hold and instead of being greeted with the majestic noise of all seven hells, there would be absolute silence.

Emerging onto the deck and into the sun I could see there was great turmoil occurring. Nearly every sailor on board seemed to be cleaning something, whether it be the ship itself or an object of some sort of value.

As I looked closer, there seemed to be grand fortune in goods, from antique vases, gold figurines, and pearl encrusted shoes, to parchment and chairs and an elaborate woman's garment that was currently being scrubbed viciously on a wooden washboard.

As a man passed me by I asked him what could possibly be going on. He just laughed and told me not to concern myself with matters that didn't include me.

I glanced warily at the gold leafed grand mirror that one of the crew members was scrubbing voraciously with soap and felt more concerned.

" hey! do ye'mind givin me a hand with this?" I turned and followed the voice to the back of the ship where the older man I had met the previous night was mopping the deck.

He seemed to be the only one on this part of the ship.

" I can mop, if you need rest." I said, gingerly taking the mop from his gnarled hands.

He took off his hat and wiped his wrinkled sun burned forehead, glaring up into the sky.

" 'appreciate it. " he said before leaning against the side of the deck. " don't always get offers like that around here. The name's Mackenzie."

I paused for a moment. "You may call me D."

His eyes grew sharp and wise. " I can call ye 'D' but what I call ye may not fair well be yer name is it, boyo?

I smiled and continued mopping the deck.

"we're going to be docking soon at an island." Mackenzie said offhandedly, producing a grungy looking cigarette from him britches' pocket. He stuck it between his lips, then paused to light a match. "we're going to drop off some goods and give the animals some time to roam before we pack up and get ready to go."

"Do you do this often?"

He raised an eyebrow at me before blowing smoke out of his nose in a torrent.

" not usually this much, but yes we do. Do you know what kind of ship this is?"

Now that it occurs to me, I didn't bother to figure out the purpose of the ship before I boarded. Oh well. No time like the present.

" what kind of ship is it?" I asked.

He smiled. "We are traffickers. Back in the auld days, when pirates would get their pickings they would transport them their selves. But carrying goods on a regular basis like that is a bit dodgy. So. They created us. The middle man. We take goods from pirates and give em to the pirate kings. And all we ask in return is a new ship when one of ours fails, whatever supplies we need to make the journey and safe passage through the seven seas. It sounds like a fair deal to me."

" aye."


	6. Chapter 6

**And here we are again, I'm almost finished with Applications so I'll probably get this down a lot faster. :] I love the pirate life, but I'm hoping to get D off this boat pretty soon, so we can have a nice change of setting. Being on the boat isn't giving me much to work with, so it would be awesome to get some suggestions as to where I might put him.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not cool enough to have created this.**

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Mackenzie tipped his hat and wandered bowleggedly off into the distance.

I continued with the work at hand. There seemed to be a light film of dirt layering the whole deck. The sun was beginning to irritate me.

" you were always one to help out. A definite neat nancy." My symbiant remarked " Isn't there anything better for you to be doing? Something that may not end in heat rash."

"There aren't many things I have use for here." I murmured as I scrubbed at a particularly stubborn stain.

"Suit yourself. But I am not going to help you if you pass out here in the sun. I've had enough of being unappreciated." It complained.

I sighed. Maybe I would name the girl Jehili, or Majroh or Samali. It would have to fit her well, which ever she helped me pick. It would be comforting to have someone with me for a while during travel.

"It would also be convenient, this one." The symbiant remarked. "You wouldn't have to watch her to make sure she wouldn't get hurt."

That is true.

And if I tire of her, I could leave her with another group of sailors and there wouldn't be any drawbacks.

Keeping her fed would be an interesting predicament. Perhaps she hunts or cooks or something of the sort.

I glanced over my shoulder at a commotion that seemed to be occurring on the other side of the ship. Some of the other passenger seemed to be arguing over who would get to handle some sort of vase. I stopped mopping and leaned against the wooden pole, peering at them inquisitively.

They seemed to be in difference over the way the inside of the vessel should be cleaned.

One of the men, a sunny blonde lad, thin and tall, was gesturing wildly at the ocean. Presumably he wanted to dip it in the water and let the waves wash it clean. Whereas the other man, a short brawny, jet haired, bushy bearded seaman, pointing to a rag he was holding, and yelling with such emphasis and rage that his face was nearly purple with effort.

A small crowd was beginning to form around them, the other sailors wearily watching. Their voices grew louder as I approached, leaving the mop to clatter loudly to the floor.

" …And what of it man! I've been doing this for 15 years! You can't just put a vase in the water and expect it to get clean, you need to scrub it!"

" yeah, sure, if you can get your hand all the way to the bottom." The other retorted, folding his arms smugly.

The tension in the air began to grow thick as I made it to the out skirts of the crowd.

Men it seemed were at the end of their ropes because before I could ask anyone what would happen if the vase didn't get clean, the blond man reached out and slugged the other in the gut.

The dark haired man gasped in surprise and pain, but didn't let it deter him for long. He smacked the blonde man swiftly on the ear, then uppercut him so hard, he few back a couple paces, bouncing hard on the rotting wood.

With a roar of outrage, the men began wrestling on the floor, punching and kicking in earnest. The crowd began betting on who would be the victor, laughing and goading them on. The vase temporally forgotten.

It odds seemed to be in the bearded man's favor, as he straddled the other, grinding his head into the floor.

It seemed to happen in slow motion.

The blonde's foot collided with the vase, kicking it into the air and it crashed noisily to the ground. The colorful shards spread in an arc, as everyone gasped in horror.

"What be the meaning of all this racket?" a voice shouted above the anxious murmuring.

I could see the sweat beading on the blonde man's upper lip, his pupils' dilating in fear as the captain smashed through the crowd. His meaty hand closed over my shoulder for a second, before moving me over politely and whacking the other sailors away to see what was the matter.

" Ach! Whose the man responsible for this?" he said quietly, his beady eyes glaring forebodingly from under his bushy red eyebrows. The hush over the men was deafening, but all eyes pointed to the couple, who had ceased struggling, on the floor.

The blond man scrambled from underneath the other and stood tall before his captain. His face the color of whey as the captain looked him up and down.

"Cruthers. I'm surprised. Normally I'd give ye fair warning before floggin ye, but as yon vase was worth 20,000 guineas ye'll have 30 lashes before supper time. Then ye'll return to your quarters and I don't wanna see ye again before the sun rises. Am I clear?"

Cruthers nodded solemnly, swaying dangerously on his feet.

"…and the rest of ye." He said surveying the crown with disgust. "Get back to work."

The crowd dispersed shaking their heads in disbelief and empathy for the blond fellow who seemed as though he would faint dead away pretty soon. Even his bearded fighting opponent seems to be in conjunction with the feeling of uneasiness and woe for his fellow sailor, patting him on the back and trudging off, shaking his head with remorse.

I have never seen anyone flogged before.

I pondered this for a few moments, placing the mop next to the bucket and leaning against the mast. My head felt itchy and hot.

I wandered down the stairs and towards my cabin, pushing the door open and wrenching the scarf off my head.

It was still day. Maybe two or three in the afternoon. Time passes swiftly on the water.

I sat down on the bed and began raking my fingers through my hair in an effort to get the tangles free.

It is times like these I consider shaving my head.

" but then all the ladies wouldn't get to daydream about your flowing black locks waving majestically in the wind. We wouldn't want that would we?" my symbiant replied.

" I don't give two wits about ladies." I murmured under my breath, as my fingers got twisted in a giant knot.

" psh." It scoffed.

The door creaked open, ushering in the half breed servant, laden with a barrel of sudsy water.

She placed the water on the floor near her closet bed and made to leave the room, but caught a glimpse of me tugging my hand out of the snarling black mass that was my hair. She tutted about for a bit in her closet, producing a small ivory comb.

I stared at her boldly.

She raised her eyebrow at me nodding towards the comb.

" do you mind if I use the water to wash my hair?"

She shook her head vigorously and dropping the comb, she pushed the bin over near me.

I kneeled down in front of it, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows, and dunked my head in the water. It was ice cold and was probably used for dishes or something of the sort, due to the strong burnt smell that pervaded it.

" I have been thinking of names for you." I said, through the bubbles " I have come up with a few, but you can choose."

I felt her move over in front of me, sitting artfully in a tangle of limbs and linen.

" when you like one hit the floor once, when you don't like one, hit the floor twice."

She sighed.

I ignored it.

" Lillia."

Two knocks.

"Samali."

Two knocks.

"Jehili."

One knock.

"Norah."

Two knocks.

Jehili it would be. I squeezed my hair dry, combing it back from my face vigorously. She stared back at me.

"Jehili." I tried it out on my tongue. It sounded new. "I am called D."


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh my god guys I'm so sorry. My life has been extremely overburdened by fashion design class, scholarships, college applications, photography class, keeping my grades up. Augh! Alright. I found some time to type a bit. Sorry its so short, but as you read this, I'm probably off applying for something or writing essays or something else tedious like that.**

**Disclaimer: dont own it.**

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The sun was just beginning to slip beyond the horizon.

The men had gathered on the deck to watch the flogging. I could hear them, even as I lay on my scratchy homespun blanket, their shoes thudding onto the floor.

Jehili was near my feet, peering quizzically out the porthole at the dark water. She had been doing needle work earlier in her closet, but had come out because she needed the light. Her wild mélange of sticks and braids was piled high on her head in one giant knot. It was almost comical.

She sniffed delicately, then turned in the direction of the door. Her attention turned to me for only a fleeting second then returned to the bundle of cloth in her lap.

The captain's voice thundered so loudly, for all the sailors to come, I didn't need my sensitive ears to hear it.

Jehili, wrapped up her needlework, tossing it hastily into her closet and made her way out of the room. Noticing that I didn't follow, she poked her head back in the room and scowled at me, beckoning with her quick little hands to follow. It didn't seem optional.

I sat up wearily, wrapping my hair into a quick tight bun, and pulling my head covering down tight over my ears. Jehili slipped off without me, silently she dashed up the stairs and onto the deck.

When I reached the top, I only managed to see her as she pushed her way through the large group of men to the front.

" bring my whip." The captain said quietly

One of the other men brought over a large bucket, extracting the long dark leather from the water. He squeezed it to remove the excess, then handed it to the captain.

The light haired man was the color of old buttermilk as he removed his shirt. His skin was unmarked. Silvery and tender. He flexed his muscles in preparation before walking over to the mast and wrapping his arms around the dark wood.

There wasn't a man there who smiled.

The feeling of that night was similar to the feeling of the desert. Each man's face bore the same expression. Anxiousness, fear, weariness and concern all wrapped into one fair grimace that swept the crowd. The captain himself didn't seem as enthusiastic as he could have been in the prospect of his duty.

Two sailors came forth. One tied the poor man's hands around the mast, and the other took each of the man's hands in his own. He nodded to the captain.

The captain's blue coated back arched with effort as he swung the whip back and lashed out at his sailor with a deafening crack. The man grit his teeth.

I could feel his agony singing in my blood as the scent of his fear hit the wind. His back had a deep purple welt across it that tore instantly when the whip landed a second time. Like a deadly snake kissing its prey. The other sailor whoes hands the beaten held in his grimaced as his comrade dug his nails deep into his palm.

Some of the other sailors were holding hands as well. Their veins bulging from the strain of gripping each other so tightly. I could hear every breath every man took, between soft lips and set jaws, they bled for him.

It had been silent save the swish and cracking of the whip, but the sailor cried out at this stroke for the first time. A keening and helpless sound that made my mouth water and my knees grow weak.

I wanted him.

The rivulets of blood streamed down his back dark and wet and sweet. The air was so thick with the scent of it, so intoxicating. I choked back a growl, and put my finger in my mouth, biting down hard. The taste of my own blood and pain lessening my desire.

The man slumped against the mast, his energy drained from agony. His comrade pressed his sweaty forehead against his wretched friend and murmured something to him, that I could barely catch, in Gaelic.

Their humanity aroused me nearly as much as the scent of life. I wanted to leave, but I was frozen to the spot. Every one of my muscles rigid and immobile with the strain of withdrawal. I closed my eyes, swiftly reopening them as the darkness heightened my other senses.

I scanned the crowd for Jehili.

She was near quite nearby, a look of fierce determination and ire in her eyes. As the last few strokes were delivered, I began to make my way over to her. I don't know why, but I feel she would lessen my burden with her presence. And silence.

The sailor who had tied the man to the mast began to cut him down, the man's arms falling limply to his sides as he leaned heavily against the wood, held up by his friend. Just as I nearly reached her, Jehili broke out of the crowd and flew to the man's side.

She patted his face and raked her fingers through his hair making small keening noises in the back of her throat. He looked up at her blankly, then closed his eyes. She hugged him to her, rocking him back and forth. One of the men placed a bucket of water on the floor near her, tossing a rag in her general direction.

The sailor who had held the man stared down at his hands. They had deep crescent moons in them and jagged scratch marks where the condemned had clawed into his flesh.

He dipped his hands into the bucket, sighing with relief. Jehili, hissed through her teeth at him and he quickly removed them. She peered quizzically at his wounds, then reaching up a long arm, brought his face down near hers and kissed him heartily in thanks.

Then she bit her finger, so that it bled and dripped upon his wounds. Watching appreciatively as they closed. The man, stared at his hands, nodded in a business like fashion and wandered off.

Jehili, turned the sailor over so he laid out flat on the floor. She sopped his back with water, cleaning his wounds a bit before a few other men, pulled him off the floor and carried him off into the distance.

She sat for a few moments, looking at the blood on her arms and clothes. Then she stood and made her way off into the bowels of the ship.

My muscles slowly began to relax as I noticed several eyes on my back, as I was the only one still by the flogging site. I shook my head to clear the scent from my mind, then retreated back to my room.

I was still hard from the memory.

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End file.
